


Frolic and play, the Eskimo way

by BroadwayBaggins



Category: Mercy Street (TV)
Genre: Advent Calendar Drabble, F/M, Gen, Winter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-02
Updated: 2016-12-02
Packaged: 2018-09-03 20:07:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8728429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BroadwayBaggins/pseuds/BroadwayBaggins
Summary: A cold snap settles in Alexandria as a beloved patient goes home.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Based on today's prompt for the Mercy Street Advent Calendar, "Icicles." Title comes from the song Winter Wonderland, which is obviously not period-appropriate but it's cute so I used it!

Today was a rare day.

A sudden cold snap had invaded Alexandria in the night, blanketing Mansion House with several inches of snow and sending the nurses into a panic as they tried to locate enough blankets to make sure the men would stay warm. A few of the more able men had gathered around the windows as the flakes fell overnight, mesmerized by the peaceful sight before them. Those from the deeper South who had seldom seen snow before watched amazed, while the Yankees bragged about how this was nothing, how they or their mothers or sisters or neighbors had delivered babies or milked cows or walked to town in blizzards twice as bad. Still, the snow had done a strange thing, united the boys in a way that Emma never would have expected. She had stayed late at the hospital that night, remaining until faithful Belinda had come to fetch her home, standing between Mary and Doctor Foster in the doorway and watching the men watch the snow fall all around them.

Now, in the light of day, the weather was beginning to warm and the snow was turning to slushy puddles before their eyes. The icicles dangling from the roof of Mansion House remained, occasionally dripping icy droplets onto unsuspecting passersby below. A few children ran about in the streets, turning them to a mix of snow and mud as they laughed and whooped and threw snowballs as if there was no war going on at their doorstep. But even all this wasn’t quite enough to make this a truly rare day at Mansion House. No, what made this day unique was one of their soldiers was going home.

They had not thought that he would make it, the young father from Connecticut. He had been brought in with bad shrapnel wounds and a deep infection in his leg, as well as malnutrition and the threat of gangrene. Doctor Foster had been able to save the leg, fighting Hale tooth and nail for the chance to give his patient a prayer of walking again one day. Sergeant Morgan had lingered in fever and delirium for several days before, miraculously, his fever broke and he finally began to respond to his treatment. He would always bare the scars of the war, and would have to rely on a cane for most of his life, but he was alive. He was alive and deemed well enough to go home.

Morgan had been well-liked among the hospital staff, and many now gathered outside Mansion House to see him off. He leaned heavily against Doctor Foster as the carriage pulled up and a pretty young woman stepped out, holding a small boy in her arms. “Papa!” the boy shrieked delightedly as his eyes set upon his father, and he squirmed to get down. His mother ignored him entirely, her eyes only on her husband, and as Doctor Foster let him go Emma watched the soldier envelop his entire family into his arms.

Samuel and a few of the orderlies clapped; Anne Hastings ducked her head to wipe discreetly at a tear. Doctor Foster retreated to Nurse Mary’s side and Emma saw their hands clasp discreetly, hidden among the folds of Nurse Mary’s skirt. The reunion went on for several minutes, making Emma begin to feel like an intruder. The cold wind bit at her cheeks and exposed hands, and she wrapped her shawl more tightly around her shoulders. Finally, the Morgans seemed to realize the long journey they had ahead of them, and they broke apart, although Emma smiled at how husband and wife stayed close to each other’s sides even when their embrace was finished.

Frank had never held her that closely…or perhaps he had, but it had never looked like that.

Goodbyes were said, and Doctor Foster was treated to a hearty handshake from the sergeant and a kiss on the cheek from his missus. Nurse Mary produced a packet of gingerbread she had made for their trip, handing little Jeremy a piece for the road when his parents backs were turned. Even Miss Hastings had a gift, handing over a volume of Tennyson’s  poetry to the departing soldier. “You were the only one to ever properly appreciate him, anyway,” she said briskly. “With you gone, I’ve no doubt it would never be touched again. Books are meant to be enjoyed.”

Samuel helped the family into the carriage, and before anyone knew it, they were off, the horses trotting happily through the muddy patches of snow. The crowd outside the hospital dispersed slowly, drawn back inside by the endless work to be done. Soon only Emma and a few stragglers remained, staying outdoors despite the cold wind. Emma smiled, watching as the carriage finally disappeared from sight, turning toward the North and home. She gave a sigh, closing her eyes and saying a quick prayer that their journey would be quick and peaceful, that Sergeant Morgan would see his home in Connecticut again soon.

_Splat!_

Emma shrieked as a drop of icy cold water hit the back of her neck, sliding down her skin and soaking into her collar and shawl. Her hand reached up to cover the spot and she whirled around, looking for the guilty culprit. For half a moment, she expected her brother to stride out of the shadows–Jimmy was an expert at packing snowballs, and never missed an opportunity to soak his sisters with one if given the chance. But Jimmy hated what had been done to Mansion House, hated the Yankees and all they stood for, probably hated her for the choices she’d made in working here. He would never willingly set foot in Mansion House, not even to prank his dear baby sister. 

Who, then? Nurse Mary and Doctor Foster were already inside, Samuel was too kind to play such a trick, and Nurse Hastings would never stoop to such a childish level. The only other person still outside was…

“Chaplain Hopkins,” she declared, placing her hands on her hips, “surely you would not be so cruel as to throw a snowball at a girl when her back was turned?”

Hopkins looked startled for a moment at her accusation, but then he smiled. He held up his hands, revealing them to be clean and dry, if a bit chapped from the cold. Emma wondered where his mittens were, then wondered where such a thought had come from.

“No, Miss Green, I would never. I’m afraid your attacker is a bit craftier than that…” he pointed upwards, and Emma followed his gaze to the icicles clinging to the porch roof. As they watched, another droplet fell onto Henry’s shoulder, and he smiled. “Sneaky little devils, I’m afraid. And we are entirely at their mercy, unless one of those young ones in the streets want to knock them down with their snowballs.”

Emma shook her head. “Oh no. That would be dangerous. What if they fell on someone’s head? My mother always said that icicles have been known to kill people, although perhaps she was just trying to discourage my brother from doing just as you suggested.”

“Your brother?”

Emma nodded. “Jimmy. He’s the oldest. He’s always had a penchant for pelting me with snowballs.”

“Oh, I think that’s the way of all brothers. Even I was guilty of that, in my youth.”

“Why, chaplain, did you really throw snowballs at your sister?”

“Oh no, never my sister! Only Ellen, my cousin, and only when she was being completely insufferable!” Henry tried to protest, raising up his hands in surrender. “We’re less than a year apart in age, and she never let me forget it. But I would never throw them at my younger sister. Pru was the sweetest soul who ever drew breath. I’d try to get her to gang up on Ellen with me, but she never would.”

Emma laughed. “Good girl.”

“There is nothing I would not do for my sister. I imagine that’s the case with all brothers,” Henry said gently. Emma could feel the compassion in his gaze as he looked at her, and she knew that even though she rarely mentioned Jimmy, he had ventures a guess as to the tension between her and her brother.

“I suppose so,” she said softly.

Another drop fell from above, and Emma froze as it hit her hand. Henry looked up and smiled. “We should get inside before we turn into icicles ourselves,” he advised. “I doubt Nurse Mary would like that.” He took her elbow and led her towards the door.

Emma had to ask. “Where are your gloves, Chaplain Hopkins?” she inquired as they crossed the threshold.

He smiled. “Didn’t you see? I gave them to Sergeant Morgan before he left. He’d lost his, and he’ll need them more than I do up north.”


End file.
